


Adventures in Inebriation

by younoknowme93



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunk Rambling, Intoxication, M/M, No Smut, Pre-Relationship, Self-Hatred, drunk Severus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 14:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12389661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/younoknowme93/pseuds/younoknowme93
Summary: With the war ended, there is a celebration going on at Hogwarts





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this almost a year ago... No it's not long but I get ideas that sometimes i never actually carry out. This is just a short oneshot. Onward my ducklings.

It wasn’t really my intention for things to escalate to this level.  I take full blame for it though.  The war over.  A chapter closed.  And a celebration.  A few months after the end of the war and Hogwarts was rebuilt, the survivors of the war gathered in the great hall.  Everyone still living patting me on the back.  Congratulating me.  Thanking me.  So many faces- many I don’t know.  But everyone knowing me.  It’s terrifying.  One would think taking down the dark lord would free one of all fear.  No.  Everyone attended the celebration.  Even him.  It’s clear that he didn’t want to come.  Having only been out of the hospital for a couple weeks.  He hasn’t so much as looked in my direction.  But I haven’t been able to look away from him.

Professor McGonagall forced him to come.  I suppose I should be calling her Minerva now that we will be working together.  Everyone is content to ignore him.  Pretend that he isn’t in the shadows quietly observing everything.  Just as he’s always done.  No one seems to see things the way I do.  I’m not a hero.  He is. 

I was able to convince the ministry to absolve him of his crimes, but I don’t think anyone truly knows how much he has sacrificed.  Not even me.  But I want to know.  It wasn’t really my intention for things to escalate to this level.

He was just sitting so quietly.  So alone.  His drink was empty.  I’ve heard that he cannot talk as easily as he once could.  That injury permanently making his throat parched.  I stopped an elf and told them to bring Severus something else to drink.  I only intended to help a bit. 

I had been watching him all night.  With the first small sip, he changed.  He turned and looked directly at me with purpose.  I debated walking over to him and talking to him like I had wanted to do all night.  But I didn’t.  I watched him lick his lips, presumably tasting the liquor.  He gulped down the remainder of the contents in one motion. 

Our eyes stayed connected and I wondered briefly why he’s looking at me so intently.  I blink and before my eyes open again, he’s directly in front of me.  His gaunt body looks to fragile to hold himself upright and his swaying looks as though he’s never walked before. 

“Harry.”  The use of my first name makes me question if I’ve confused this man for another.

“Professor Snape.  I’m glad to see that you are well.”  The crowd around me has grown sparse as if he were a contagious disease to avoid.  His voice sounds pained and deeper than I remember. 

“You look good.”  His eyes are glossy, but I’m sure he means that I look healthy.

“Madam Pomfrey was able to heal up all of my injuries.  Magic is pretty incredible.” I sound like a first year that’s been exposed to magic for the first time.  “What about you?”

“Not important.  You are going to be the new Gryffindor head of house, and teaching DADA.  Looks like you’ll be the first that can stick around for more than one school year.” 

“Yes.  I guess I will.”  He smiles in an all to comfortable manner.

“Until Ms Weasley gets her way at least.”  I’m not sure if he means Molly or Ginny or hell maybe even Hermione at this point.  “You are still attached to the youngest.  Of course, she would need to be graduated before either of you could do anything serious like getting married.” 

“We wouldn’t be getting married.”  I clarify.  He must mean Ginny.

“Yes.  You are still much too young to be tied down.”  He sways slightly and reflexivity I grab his arm.

“Professor are you well?  You are acting out of character.”  He blinks a few times and then abruptly turns and leaves.  Quickly I follow after him.  Out of the great hall and down the flights of stairs all the way to the dungeons.  Occasionally he staggers, but even when I call out to him he doesn’t stop.

He stumbles just outside of his door.  I catch up easily.

“I seem to be feeling out of sorts tonight.  I was fine until that drink that the elves gave me.”

“I’m afraid that might have been my fault.  I did ask an elf to bring you something to drink.”

“Yea.  Tasted like alcohol.  I don’t really do much drinking.”  His deathly pale skin is actually flushed for once.  He looks healthier with color in his cheeks.  He’s trying futilely to open to door, but he can’t seem to grasp the knob.  So I help.  Our hands land on the knob at the same time and his skin feels cool to the touch.  This isn’t a place for someone with my little self-control.  He loses his footing and falls back into me.  “Please excuse me.”  He tries to right himself and only sways further. 

“Professor, please let me help you.”  It would be a lie if I said I didn’t feel indebted to the man.  The alcohol seems to have made him mellow. 

“Please.  You should return to your party upstairs.”  I shake my head at him.

“It isn’t my party.  It’s a celebration.”

“No Harry.  It is your party.  If you are gone for too long, you will be missed.” 

“Come back with me.”  He staggers a foot away from me.

“No Harry.  It’s important for a man to realize when he is not welcome, and I have never been comfortable at gatherings of any nature.”  His eyes are blank.  I have no doubt that he’s more than tipsy.  Maybe now is the best chance I have to get close to this mysterious man.

“Professor.  I have been wanting to talk to you.  About the memories.”  His head tilts blankly.

“What about.”  His voice is heavy.

“You were close to my mother.”

“I love her with my whole being.”  The amount of sincerity in his tone is staggering.  I’m not sure if it was intentional or not, but he also said love… not loved.

“I know you protected me because you love her.  And she chose my dad.  And I look like my dad.  I’m the embodiment of her choosing someone you hated.”  He blinks and smiles softly.  But it’s not a happy smile.  No.  It’s a bitter sad one. 

“I was a cowardly child and a lonely one.  Your mother was my closest friend.  But I’m sure I wasn’t hers.  I must have been more a nuisance to her than anything, but she was kind and tolerated me.  When I realized that I was not as important to her as she was to me, I felt betrayed and wanted to hurt her just as much.  Because I was a stupid cowardly child.  She was important to me and like a belligerent child, I acted out in the hopes that she would care enough to stop me.  I thought that she valued me and would forgive any of my misconducts.  But she did not.  And I cannot blame her for that.  She betrayed me.”  He’s looking at his hands as if there was something on them.  “Only she didn’t betray me.  She was the only one that knew my secret, but somehow James Potter knew and was telling everyone.  She told him.  I was sure she did.  But she didn’t.  But I blamed her and hurt her.  Because she had betrayed me even though she didn’t.”

“Professor?”

“James?  Who told you that I’m gay.  It was Lily.  Right?  That’s why I called her a mudblood.  Because she told you.  But she didn’t.  But how could you have known.”  He’s looking right at me.  His head is in his head and he’s rubbing it as if he has a headache.  “I knew she told you.  I didn’t throw away my friendship over nothing.  She had to have told you.  But Lily would never.”

“Professor Snape.”  I touch his shoulder but he flinches. 

“I couldn’t trust that someone so kind would care about me.  How could anyone actually believe that she would value my friendship.  But she did.  Right?  I wasn’t wrong.  Right?”  He’s getting harder to understand.  “I love her eyes.  She was the only person to ever look at me and not see something dirty.  So I had to betray her.  It was driving me crazy.  I didn’t want her to get hurt by me so I had to hurt her.  I’m dirty.  She betrayed me first.  Or did I betray her first.  Did I betray her so she couldn’t betray me.”  He staggers to his bedroom and falls into his bed still fully dressed.  I’m afraid to leave him.  Was all that just the alcohol. 

Or repressed thoughts. 

How much was true.  And how much false. 

I awkwardly go to his bed and shake his shoulder.  Tiredly he blinks up at me.

“James.  Why are you here.  Come to tell the school how I’m a fag again.  You know everyone will believe you over me.  Lily won’t even stop you.  She hates me now because I was cruel to her.  I thought she was the one who told you.  But it wasn’t her.  Was it.  I wonder how you found out.  She’s the only one who I ever told.  She wouldn’t tell you.  But it had to be her.”

“Professor.  It’s Harry.  Just Harry.”  He blinks a few times.

“You have your mother’s eyes.”  His voice is no higher than a whisper and it could almost be called intimate.  His eyes are half lidded.  Lips chapped.  “Your mother was the only person that ever cared about me and I betrayed her because I couldn’t trust that anyone would care about me.  I’m not a good person.  So many people died because of this war.  I shouldn’t be one of the survivors.” 

“You are the bravest man I have ever met.”  And I mean it.  “Professor you don’t drink often.”

“No.  I don’t.  Alcohol can make an even-tempered man a monster.  I’m already ill tempered.  I’m afraid of the monster I’d become.”

“Drunken words are sober thoughts.”  I reach out and stroke his hair before I even realize that I had lifted my hand.  “You are a lonely man aren’t you.”  I don’t think he should drink, but not because I’m worried about him becoming violent.  He’s a depressed drunk.  The self-loathing type.

“That feels nice.  You should go back to your party.  But please.  Turn on the lamp before you go.  I’m afraid of the dark.”  I don’t move even when his eyes close.  I keep stroking his hair.  I don’t know what’s made me so bold.  I think I was just curious how his hair would feel.  It looks as oily as it always does.  But it’s not.  It’s soft.  Warm even. 

“Have you always been afraid of the dark?”

“Yes.  But it’s embarrassing so please.  Don’t tell anyone.  I don’t like being teased.”

“Have you always preferred men?”  I press.  He’s obviously not well.  The alcohol has made him loose lipped.  Knowing this man, this could by my only chance to get to know him.

“Yes.  Girls are scary.  My dad was scary too, but only when he drank.  When he was sober he would mostly ignore me.  My mom though.  She was scary.  She hated me.  I don’t like girls, but Lily was nice.  She wasn’t like my mother.  My mom would sometimes be gentle.  She would pat my hair just like this to help me get to sleep.  But I was always afraid because after I fell asleep, she would squeeze her hands around my throat.  Lily wasn’t like her.  She wouldn’t pretend to be nice and then hurt me.  But.  It had to be her.  James knew.  So how did he know if she didn’t tell him.  Girls are scary.”

“Aren’t boys scary too?”

“Yes.  But not as scary as girls.  Boys will show you how much they hate you.  Girls trick you.  They make you think you are special to them and then they hurt you.  They make you trust them first.  I hated my dad, but at least he was honest.  He would tell me things like how he wished I would die.  Or runaway.  But at least he was honest.”  I can’t seem to move from his side.  I feel like I’m trapped in this spot.  “Do you hate me?”  He asks.  His eyes are open while waiting for my answer. 

“No.  I don’t hate you.”  He blinks a few times until his eyes remain closed.

“You should though.  You have to be careful around fags.  If you don’t hate me, I could get attached to you.  You don’t want a fag to get attached to you.”

“It doesn’t bother me Professor.”  He hums.  “I know you are sleepy, but I’m afraid to leave you alone.”

“I’m sorry.”  I don’t know what he’s apologizing for. 

“Professor, are you going to sleep.”

“No.  Just resting my eyes.  I’m enjoying talking.  I don’t remember the last time someone cared to hear what I say.  I’m not a good person.  I’m a bully.  A cruel bitter man.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“If you aren’t a bully, then you will be bullied.  I don’t want to be teased anymore.”

“Professor.”

“Please stop calling me that.  It makes me feel dirty.”

“Sir.”

“That’s even worse.  You are going to be a teacher soon.  We will be equals.  If I can call you by your first name, then you should feel comfortable following suit.”

“I’m not so sure you would really want that.  You are really drunk right now.”

“That I am.  You shouldn’t be here.  There is a party for you upstairs.  You’ll be missed.”

“To be honest Severus, I never really cared for gatherings.  I’m enjoying our conversation.”

“Even though I’m a cruel bitter old fag.”

“I don’t hate you.  Can you believe that?”

“No.  I can’t.  I don’t want to lie to you.  I could tell you that I believe, but I really don’t.”

“Severus, I’m not a girl.  I’m a boy.  Does that make it any easier for you?”  He laughs lightly.

“Yes actually.  It does.  But you should be careful.  Old fags like me have a tendency of seeking young boys like you.  Maybe you shouldn’t trust me.”  His words are slurred.

“Do you have intentions of hurting me?”  I already know he doesn’t. 

“No. I’m not that type of fag.  I’m the worse kind.  The ones that are hardly considered men.  A gross pervert desperate to be held.  A disgusting freak that enjoys receiving.  I wouldn’t hurt you.   But I will.  Because I always hurt people.”  His tone oozes self loathing, and I think I have a better grasp of what type of man Severus is.

“That’s okay.  I’ve been hurt a lot myself.”  My fingers tangle into his hair and his chapped lips part.  “Severus.  I’m not dating Ginny.”

“Hmm.” 

“I’m a fag too.”  He’s not responding.  Light snores echo in the darkening room.  I stand up and turn on the lamp just as he asked me to do before I leave.  I really don’t want to leave him, but I’m sure sober Severus will not be nearly as amiable as intoxicated Severus.  Tomorrow though.  I’ll come to his room equipped with a potion for a hangover- which I’m sure he’ll have.  And he and I will talk.  “The kind of fag that pretends to be straight so that no one can judge.  The best kind of fag.”  I stroke his hair again as I knell beside him.  “The kind that loves giving and holding.  Would you let me hold you Severus?”  He groans in his sleep clearly unconscious.  Even his breathing is even.  “Maybe you shouldn’t trust me Severus.  Because if you let me capture you, then I will never let go.” 

I don’t want to return to the party upstairs.  I would much rather stay with Severus for the rest of the night.  But I don’t trust myself with him yet.  He’s clearly much more delicate than I thought.  Which works for me because I prefer being dominate to older partners.  Yes.  I think Severus and I will get along just fine.  I let myself kiss his temple, but that is all I will allow myself to do.  “Sleep well Severus.  Tomorrow.  Let’s get along just as well as we did tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that I was incredibly surprised that so many people wanted more of this? When i posted the first chapter I thought... eh... it's something to post. I'm sure a handful of readers will like it at least. I did not expect that volume of readers to ask for more.... Well... here's more. I do not know how long this story will be... i can only hope that the second chapter going forward is as much enjoyed as the first. Onward my ducklings.

My head throbs achingly.  And I seem to have fallen asleep fully clothed.  That’s odd.  My throat is sore.  Not odd.  Since I was deemed well enough to leave the care of those blasted medical professionals, my throat has hurt.  I cannot drink enough to moisten the desert that is my windpipe.  But this dryness is different.  A soreness that has come from talking in abundance.  Only, I don’t remember talking.  I don’t remember much of anything last night.  Going to that brat’s celebration.  A house elf handing me a drink.  Then everything is foggy. 

I do not enjoy having gaps in my memory.  It gives me a level of panic that I can’t bring myself to admit out loud.

But I must have been well enough to return safety to my room.  Even the lamp is on.  Shutting it off, I prepare for the day.  Last night can be sorted out after a hot shower.  My joints ache.  The unfamiliar heaviness pounding my temples will not lessen.  That also can be dealt with later. 

My tasks for the day are mostly nil.  Brewing a few simple potions.  Preparing for the start of term.  I will likely not be disturbed today.

The hot spray of water feels lovely.  But I do not linger for any length of time.  After the shower is of course shaving.  My hair still damp, I dress and busy myself with my few tasks.  Still the pain in my skull just pounds. 

Minerva was kind to take me back as potion’s professor.  She really stuck her neck out for me.  I hate that she had to suffer the spurn of countless parents.  I understand their side of course.  It doesn’t matter how justified my actions were.  A killer is still a killer.  Most of the wizarding world wants to see me receive the dementor’s _kiss_.  I didn’t even fight for innocence.  I was prepared for the repercussions.  Orders or not, I still killed Albus Dumbledore.  I deserved to be found guilty.

Potter is the sole reason that I’m not in Azkaban or worse.  He used his good name to have me freed.  And Minerva rehired me at the cost of her reputation.  Last night, I intended to speak with him.  With Potter.  I couldn’t get to him.  To many people crowding around him.  I remember wanting to speak to him and then nothing.  Aside from this blasted headache, no harm seems to have been done to my body.  Perhaps I should ask Minerva if she noticed anything odd concerning my behavior last night. 

I owe them both a thank you and an apology.  I cannot bring myself to give it though.  Especially not to Potter.  I’ve wronged him too much. 

_Knock.  Knock._

I don’t ever receive visitors.  Especially not outside of the school year.  Minerva has no need of me today.  If she did, she would call me up to her office, she wouldn’t come down to my personal rooms. 

“Good morning Severus.”  The young boy… man, smiles as if he were actually enjoying being in my presence.  He amiably extends his hand with a vile in it.  “Don’t worry, I didn’t brew it.  It’s from Poppy.  For your hangover.  You were really drunk last night.”  He laughs lightly.  When he laughs, his eyes close and his mouth opens wide.  With his green eyes closed, he looks identical to his father.  They do not laugh the same way though.  With James Potter, his laughter was malicious and excluding.  His son’s laugh is much lighter.  Gentler.  As if inviting everyone around to join in on the warm feeling. 

I take the vile if only so he will lower his hand.  I have no intention of drinking it.  I was a spy for too long to drink a strange offered liquid.  He doesn’t leave though.  “Potter.  Why are you here?”  It’s so easy to fall back into old habits. 

“I’m here to check on you Severus.”  He smiles. 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to use my given name.  Regardless of your standing as a Professor at this school, you are to address me respectfully.” 

“Of course sir, if that is how you want me to address you then I will.  But Severus, I expect you to call me by my first name.”

“I will do no such thing.”  He laughs again as if already expecting my response.

“Then, I will continue calling you by your first name.  I do not know why it would bother you though, we are both professors.  I know that you were my teacher, but Minerva was yours and both of you are on first name basis, and honestly there are much worse names that you could be called.”  The insinuation makes my skin crawl.  Yes, I know all too well that there are worse things to be called.  He looks at the uncorked vile.  “Honest Severus, that potion is safe for you to take.  As drunk as you were last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if your head was throbbing.”  I clutch the potion tighter, but I refuse to uncork it.

“It is impossible for me to have been intoxicated.  I do not drink.”  Before Death Eater meetings, I would brew and consume a potion that would ensure sobriety be maintained regardless of how much alcohol I consumed.   I’ve never allowed drink to alter my mind.  And I would not have drank without that potion.  Drunk men are dangerous.

“I’m afraid that blame falls on me.  I saw you without anything to drink last night and Minerva has told me that your throat gets dry quickly.  I asked a house elf to bring you something to drink, something that would taste good.  It was a celebration, I didn’t realize at the time that you didn’t drink.”  He laughs lightly.  “It certainly didn’t take much to get you drunk.  But don’t worry, I made sure that you returned to your bedroom safely.”  He doesn’t back down when I glare at him.  He doesn’t even flinch. 

“Are you the one who turned on the lamp in my bedroom?”

“Oh yes, you told me that you do not like the dark and asked that I turn in on before I leave.”  Damn this Potter brat.  “Severus, I do honestly apologize.  It wasn’t my intention to get you tipsy much less as drunk as you were.  I’m the only person you talked to last night.”  He tilts his head.  “Severus, do you not remember anything?”  I shouldn’t let him know about the gaps in my memory. 

“I remember enough.”  His green eyes close as his smile widens. 

“I don’t think you do.  If you remembered last night, then I think you would be much more irritable.  But rest assured,” His eyes open and his face is serious, “everything you told me last night will stay between us.  I have no intentions of humiliating you or even teasing you.”

“I think you’ve long overstayed your welcome.”  I motion towards the door, but he doesn’t move.

“Severus.  It’s okay to be scared.  And it’s okay if you don’t trust me.  I know that can be hard for some people.”

“Leave Potter.”

“Not until you listen to what I have to say.”  His voice is composed and masculine.  I know the type of man Harry Potter is.  He’s the sort of man that can rally a crowd behind him.  The sort of man that can sway even his enemies to his side.  The sort of man that is hard to hate.  I hate him so much.  Because hate is the only word that is strong enough to explain this ache I feel around him.  It’s the only word strong enough, but it’s not the most accurate word.  Harry Potter is hard to hate.  Between his green accepting eyes and careless smile, it’s far too easy to love him.  So I’ll hate him.  “Severus?  Are you listening.”

“Say what you have to say so that you’ll leave.  I’m a busy man.”  He smiles when I look at him.

“I ask you as a former student, colleague, and a friend- if you’ll have me as one- that you continue to not drink.  You are far too vulnerable when you are inebriated and I was very worried about you last night.  I also ask you, as someone who cares about you, to lean on me.  I have no doubts that you are a strong independent man that hates relying on anyone, but I would like us to turn over a new leaf.  I really want to have a relationship with you.”

“Are you finished Potter?”  He nods simply.  “I do not need a brat half my age- that only was hired as a teacher because he’s famous to counsel me.  And I regret to inform you that I’m not in the market for friends.  So you can take your ‘hopes for a relationship with me’ and shove them.”  I say snidely to remind him of his place.  Arms-length away. 

He doesn’t flinch or back down.  He doesn’t even get angry.  Instead he smiles softly and understandingly.  His hand reaches and lays on my shoulder and I find that I don’t have enough strength to brush it off. Lightly his hand squeezes my shoulder in a reassuring manner.

“Severus, I understand that being open with someone is scary.”  Coming from anyone else, those words would sound condescending but from his mouth they don’t.  “Did you see Ron last night?”  The change in topic is so sudden, I only remain silent.  He laughs when I don’t answer.  “The answer is no.  You didn’t.  No one did.  No one saw most of the Weasley’s last night, or Hermione for that matter.  It’s true that one of the reasons is because they are grieving, but another reason is, Ron and I are fighting.  And Hermione stayed behind to try to calm her soon to be husband down.”

“What reason would the golden trio have to fight?”

“I’m sure it’ll blow over at some point, we have all been through too much together.  Ron didn’t take it well when I came out.”  I notice his hand linger on my shoulder longer than what is comfortable.

“Potter, I do not understand.”

“Ron didn’t take it well when I told him that I was not interested in his sister.  I was not ready to elaborate yet, but he took it as an insult towards his sister.  Accusing me on believing she isn’t good enough for me.  I tried to tell him that wasn’t the case, but he still wasn’t satisfied.  So, though I didn’t feel ready yet, I came out of the closet to my friends.  He didn’t take it well that his best friend is a poof.”  Though I haven’t done much talking, my throat stings and it’s difficult to swallow.  “Severus.  When I said that I wanted to have a relationship with you, yes I did mean in a friend sort of way.  But I also am open to more than that.  Last night we spoke for a long time.  I feel like it was the first time we actually talked, and I hate that you can’t remember it.”  His warm eyes are terrifying and I jerk away from him and his hand. 

“Potter are you daft!”

“You were so open with me.  You were so soft and vulnerable that I really didn’t want to leave you alone.  I could see just how fragile you are under the surface.”

“Get out!”

“It was the first time that I ever felt like someone could understand me.  I’ve gone to school and my class mates have lives that I have never experienced, but last night when you talked.  I understood completely.  I wanted to reach out to you.”  The panic in my chest is escalating.  He isn’t leaving.  Why isn’t he leaving!  I have nowhere to run.   Each step I take backwards, he takes forwards.  He never gets any closer to me.  But he doesn’t get further away either.  He’s an arms-length away.  He has to stay an arms-length away!  “I am not going to hurt you.”  It doesn’t matter that his tone is nonthreatening.  I’m scared.  I’m not supposed to be scared.

“I said get out!”  No amount of snarling or shouting is slowing him. 

“Severus.  It’s okay to be scared.  I know this is something you’ve never really had to experience.  I promise, I will not hurt you.  I know how scary It is to trust that someone has your best interest at heart, but I can’t leave you to fumble on your own anymore.  I would love for us to become friends.  I’m in no rush.  Even if it takes a decade for you to trust me… for you to believe that you can lean on me, I’m willing to keep at it.  I understand now.  You lash out to make yourself seem more intimidating than you actually are.  But it’s okay to be vulnerable around me.  It’s okay to want to be held.”

“I hate you.”  I lower my tone and force as much malice into as I can.

“That’s okay.  It wasn’t that long ago that I hated you, but now.  What I feel for you isn’t even close to hate.  I respect you and I care about you.”  He takes a step back as if realizing that he was crowding me.  “I know you are a good person.  And I know that you’ve been hurt a lot.”

“What… did I say last night?”  I hate how my voice sounds.  But the man in front of me smiles gently. 

“See for you self.  I have no desire to block my mind from you.  Look as much as you please.”  His voice is open and a light press against his mind shows the sincerity of his words.

“You know that like this, I could literally use any of your thoughts or memories against you.”

“That’s fine Severus.  I trust you.”  His smile doesn’t waver.  “Look as you please Severus.  I do not have anything to hide from you.”

“You shouldn’t say that.  Men like me are dangerous.  Men like me are skilled in betrayal.”

“No Severus.  Men like you are skilled in loneliness.  Men like you are scared.  Go ahead Severus.  I’m ready.”

_Legilimens._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my ducklings. So much has been going on. But here is chapter 3. Hope you all enjoy. Onward my ducklings.

I can feel him pressing and reaching deep into my mind.  He reaches farther into the recesses than I would have otherwise let him.  I don’t block him though.  I remember what it once felt like to have him invade my mind.  It was scary and humiliating.  Feeling like my very essence was being violated.  There was even a level of pain.  This is so much different though. 

There is no pain.

There is no violation.

No.

It feels what I would imagine a gentle caress to feel like. 

I don’t care to see what he sees.  In truth, it doesn’t really matter to me.  I trust him.  I trust him with anything and everything he discovers about me.  He will not feel any fighting or resistance.  So, I focus more on watching him.  In his trace, he doesn’t so much as notice when I cup his cheek.  While he learns about me, I will watch this brave timid man in front of me.  Every time his closed eyes twitch, I inch closer.  Every time he grimaces in pain, my thumb strokes his cheek.  What are you seeing that gives you these responses?  Is it the time my uncle locked me in that cupboard for four days?  That small prison smelled of urine and tears.  I remember how hungry I was.  When I was released, I began stealing food from the pantry and hiding it in that cell.   

Or is he seeing the nightmares.  Those, I cannot even bring myself to discuss.  My mother’s screams still sometimes echo in my ear. 

Or maybe he cares more for seeing the humiliation.  My cousin and his friends circling me.  I hated them.  And also envied them.  I use to wonder, if my parents were alive and I did not live with him.  Would we get along.  Is there a chance that maybe he and I could have even been friends?  Could my aunt… my mother’s sister… love me.  My mother loved me enough to give her life for me.  And my aunt hates even the air I breathe.  Does she hate me because I’m the reason her sister died?  Or am I simply that unlovable.  Is Severus watching the times I’ve cried myself to sleep.  Or the time I debated suicide.

That is a memory that I buried deep.  Sometimes I even forget that there was a time that I almost did.

I wonder what he is seeing.  But I will not check.  This is for him.  He did not have control over what I learned last night.  And now.  I will not have control either.  Let him learn whatever he pleases.  I can give him this much.  I think I might even enjoy watching him show muted expressions all because of my memories. 

He’s been inside for so long I half wonder if he will ever come out.  And his physical body doesn’t appear to be conscious of my existence.  Not even when I intertwine my fingers in his.  I never outgrew him in height, but I’m much stouter than he is.  He is long but not necessarily big.  I don’t break him from his trance.  Not even when I see thin slow tears.  I can still feel his presence, but it feels so very different than before.  The gentle caress is gone.  Before there was a level of confidence that he had in his craft, now it’s something skittish.  Afraid is too common a word to really express this unnerving jittery feeling I have deep in my core.  He’s frenzied.  Searching for something I’m afraid to know what. 

Then I’m empty.

The loss of the intimacy leaves me apathetic.  I didn’t realize how warm the experience was until he left and my skin flushed coldly.  His eyes open and those dark orbs seem to see me differently.  No necessarily in a good or bad way.  Just different.  Like I’m a stranger.  It’s no surprise really.  I am so very different than how others believe I am.  My thumb is against his cheek still- wiping away a single tear.  I do not believe he’s realized there is liquid leaking from his eyes.  My fingers still securely hold his.  More for my benefit than for his.

I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t terrified now.  I was prepared before coming here.  I need him to trust me.  Because I’m the only person I trust not to hurt him.  So it has to be me.  He’s been hurt enough.  With me.  I know he will be safe.  I was prepared to show him a part of myself that I’ve closed away from the world.  One much like him.  Small.  Fragile.  Needy.  So very needy. 

He hasn’t spoken.  That scares me.  But at least he hasn’t pulled away.  I need him.  Just as he needs me.  Severus inhales slowly but deeply.  His chest rises, holds there for a moment, and then deflates.  It’s followed by another one.  It’s like he’s never breathed before.

“Potter.”

“My name is Harry.”

“Look.  Potter.  I do not know what you are trying to accomplish, but..”

“My name is Harry.  Severus.  There are much worse things to be called.  I know that to you the name Potter is an insult.  I do not want to be insulted by you of all people.”  He takes a step backwards, but he ends up connecting with the wall.

“Forgive me if I’m not on par with the illustrious boy who lived twice.”  His powerful booming voice is escalating violently.  I worry for his parched throat. 

“Severus.”  I grip his hand tighter.  “There is no need for the dramatics.  You got a pretty intimate look.  Do you really still believe that I think myself better than you?  If you do.  Please.  Dive back in.  Look deeper.”  He’s quite so I keep talking.  “Severus.  Last night you were intoxicated.  I saw the man you really are.  Behind all the masks.  I have thick skin.  I’ve had too growing up.  What I meant was.  From you, the words cut much deeper than from anyone else.  Because.  You actually see who I am.  Not just the boy who lived.”

“Leave.”

“It’s okay to be scared Severus.  I understand.  I’m scared too.  Right now.  I don’t know what you’ve seen.  I don’t know how you feel about me.  I do not want your pity.  I’m sure you can understand that.  Severus, you are the only one who has intimate knowledge of my childhood.  I’ve told no one else.  I’m ashamed of my upbringing.  I know you were also abused.”  His face twists indignantly before it falls.  He knows there is no point in lying.

“I do not trust you.”

“That’s okay.  I already told you.  I’m not in any rush.”

“I’ll never trust you.”

“That’s okay too.  I’ll be here regardless.  But please.  I’m Harry.  Just Harry.  I do not want to be insulted by you.”  In a lot of ways.  Severus and I are very similar.  His hand finally realizing that it’s held, pulls from my grasp.  I let go immediately.  I have no desire to make him feel trapped.  But he cannot be allowed to shrug me off and continue down this path of loneliness either. 

“I do not wish to call you anything.”  His voice is scratchy.  I hope he didn’t hurt it earlier.

“I know that my mother was really your only close friend.  I don’t know if she betrayed you or not.  I have no way of knowing.  I’m sure that makes it even harder to trust me.  I do understand.  I’m not angry.  I don’t want to be alone.  Call it selfishness on my part.”

“Potter.  Harry.”  He’s not looking at me.  The vile is still in his hand.  I wonder if his head is throbbing still.  I doubt he will drink the potion for his hangover.  “I don’t understand why you are doing this.  Who I am hasn’t changed.  I’m still a cruel man.”

I tilt my head.  “Okay.”  When he narrows his eyes at me, I smile.  “Severus, I care about you.  I think you’ve gone to long without someone to lean on.  I do understand though.  I know how scary it is to feel like your only friends betrayed you.”  It still stings.  I wasn’t ready to tell Ron and Hermione.  But I honestly thought that once I was ready to tell them, it would go smoothly.  I didn’t hide the secret for fear of rejection.  I just simply wasn’t ready to talk about it.  I thought I would be treated the same. 

I’m sure Ron will come around.  The three of us really have been through too much for something like my preferences to get in the way of our friendship.  It still stings though. 

“It’s the only way James Potter could have found out.”  He says quietly.  This is something he can’t seem to ‘get over’.  Either his best friend told a bully that Severus is gay, or she didn’t and Severus unjustifiably lashed out against my mother.  Either situation sucks.  I don’t pry though.  “It isn’t in your best interest to be seen with me.”  He says confidently after several minutes.

“Severus.  How many people were willing to be friends with you as long as no one knew.  How many ‘secret friends’ did you have.”  He turns his gaze away from me.  That by itself is very telling.

“Your mother was the only person who didn’t care what our classmates said.  She was the only one not ashamed to be seen with me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I do not want your pity boy.”

“It’s not pity Severus.  It’s empathy.  It’s a mutual hurt.  I wish that you could have had many friends.  I really do Severus.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”  In a display of weakness, his hand rubs his temple.  “Please just go.” 

“Alright Severus.  I’ll come by later to see if you are up for talking then.”  There is no rush and I really don’t want to push him.  I don’t make it more than a step when I feel something tugging on my robe.  Long fingers are gripping the fabric desperately.  His facial features haven’t changed.  I don’t prompt him to speak.  His lips are pale.  Chapped.  Eyes downcast and dark.  Piercing really. 

“You don’t have to be concerned about me.  I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to handle everything alone though.  Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“I really am much more stable than you seem to believe.”

“Okay Severus.  But.  I still don’t want to leave you alone.”

“It’ll be more troublesome to me if you do start hanging around.  I’ll get more foul looks than I already do.”

“Are you ashamed of me Severus?”  This seems enough to draw his eyes to mine.  Once our gazes are locked, he doesn’t back down. 

“I’m nearly double your age, a past teacher, murderer, ex death eater, traitor, and an all-around piss poor person.  Adding pedophile- rumored or otherwise- to the list is overkill.  If you really are concerned about my emotional wellbeing.  Then just do what you can so that we see each other as little as possible.  This,” He motions between us, “is the furthest thing from what I need.”

“Severus.”  I can’t bring myself to say more than his name.  I enjoy the way it rolls off the tongue.

“I’m not like you.”  He exhales slowly and looks at the vile in his hand.  “You optimistically charge in uncaring of the consequences.  I’ll admit that my previous beliefs of your upbringing were unfounded, but you have not had a moment of being unloved.  There was always another life waiting for you.  That doesn’t disregard your past, but you at least had options for a future.”  I cup his cheek and though he flinches, he doesn’t pull away.  I think he’s afraid that if he did it would scream cowardice.

“You’re right Severus.  I did have options for a future.  My first day at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy extended his hand to me.  I didn’t take it.  I could have.  Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had.  Would I have become a death eater?  My aunt and uncle were so angry.  So violent.  I could see myself hating muggles.  In the end, I made my choice.  Severus.  You have options for the future as well.”  I extend my hand and he eyes it suspiciously.  “It’s okay Severus.  When I rejected Malfoy it set me on my course.  I was never given an option to revoke my choice.  But I will not do that to you Severus.  If you do not take my hand now, then just know that it’s always extended to you.”  He can’t seem to look away from my hand.  “I’ll leave you to think now Severus.  That potion is safe.  Please take it if you can bring yourself to.  And I will come see you again after you’ve had time.  I know I’ve put you under a lot of stress.”  I retract my hand only in the literal sense.  I’ll leave now.  But I need to do one last thing.

He doesn’t seem to respond when I take a step closer to him.  Not even when I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips quickly- but firmly against his forehead.  I smile at him and though he stares at me wide eyed, he says nothing.

I’ll let him think.  For now.  I’ll take my leave. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow it's been a while since I updated this story. I am focussed on other stories at the moment, but I have not forgotten this one or my many other incomplete stories. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. Onward my ducklings.

The small vial sits innocently on my table.  The boy… man left some time ago and I still cannot seem to calm down.  The small vial sits innocently on my table.  My head is pounding and I know there is a chance that this small innocent thing could provide almost immediate relief.  If I could just take it.  If I could just trust his intentions enough to take this small vial of liquid.

Potter.  Harry.  Potter.  The golden boy who lived.  Twice.  He is exactly as one would picture a fresh-faced hero.  Strong.  Driven.  Powerful.  Kind.  Healthy.  _Attractive._  

I shake that thought away.

I could take this potion and there is a likely chance that the throbbing will cease.  But there is a small chance that it will be something else.  It does not matter how unlikely that chance is, I cannot shake the knowledge that he could be deceiving me. 

He’s gay.

I shake that thought away.

He told his friends that he’s gay.

I shake that thought away.

He was so gentle with me.  He said that he wanted friendship.

I shake that thought away.

He said that he was open to something more than friendship.

I SHAKE THAT THOUGHT AWAY.

For now, I will fix myself a glass of water.  Yes.  That’s all I need.  I do not need his taunting mystery potion.  I do not need his lips against my temple.  I do not need his memories.  I do not need his refreshing brand of kindness influencing me.  I do not need him to be a reason for me to live.

One only gets hurt when they allow themselves to trust.  If I do not give him the opportunity to betray me, then he cannot betray me.

He’s the only reason I’m not in Azkaban or dead.

He should have just let me die.

I don’t deserve this second chance.

I shake that thought from my head as well.

A knock on the door and I have to remind myself to not cower away from it.  I just want to be alone with my thoughts.  I am not stable enough for company, but I have obligations.  Potter has not been gone long enough for it to be probable that it’s him at the door.  The only other person it could be is Minerva.

And it is.

I open the door and let her in.  She’s been to my room many times, and there is a level of ease she always exudes.  When I open the door, she immediately goes to my small sitting room and takes the seat she always takes.  I follow her as if this were her room and she were leading the way.

Minerva is very much like a cat.  She doesn’t feel self-conscious in another’s territory.  She says what she pleases.  Does what she pleases.  For some reason I have never discovered, she has always stretched out her hand to me.  I would not say she was fond of me.  _No one is fond of me._   But she never had the intense dislike for me that everyone has always had.

“Severus, I have come to check on you.  Last night you left rather suddenly.  I would have followed after you, but since Harry did, I imagined you would be in good hands.”  She is sitting down, so she intends to stay long enough for a cup of tea.  While I prepare our tea, she continues talking.  “When you did not come back, I questioned Harry and he said that you were sleeping.”  She laughs lightly.  “This morning he went to Poppy to get you a potion for your hang over.  I see that you still have not taken it.”  She rolls the glass vial between her long elegant fingers.  I don’t have to explain myself.  “Severus, the war is over.  For good this time.”

“Did he send you?”  I slide a cup to her and pour her tea first before pouring my own.  I place the sugar on the table and she plops one sugar in.  Then two.

“No one sent me Severus.”  She smiles at me understandingly.  “The war is over.”  She repeats.  “I know that you have certain tools to defend yourself.”  Her smile is very gentle.  It could almost be called motherly.  No.  She is much to kind for me to consider her motherly.  “We all have.  I have come to check on you because I was concerned.”

“There is no reason to be concerned.”  I take my tea with a spoonful of honey.  “I am thankful that you have reinstated me as potion professor but having me teach here will tarnish your reputation.  It would be better if you found someone better suited to the job.” 

“There is no one better suited.”  She takes a sip of her tea.  “There is no one more skilled with potions than you, and Hogwarts is lucky to have you as a professor and I am lucky to have you as part of my staff.  You are a hero.  Though you may not see yourself as such, I do.  Offering you your rightful job is the least that I can do.”  She says this as if it were common knowledge.  She says this as if anyone with eyes could see it.  “You’ve always been very serious about your craft and now without the stress of being a spy, I have no doubt that you will be able to do your job better than before.  Preferably being less biased, but I believe your Slytherins deserve a bit of favor being given to them.”  She takes another sip.

“You are the only one who believes that I am welcome here.”  She tilts her head and smiles.

“And Harry.  Me and Harry.  Severus you have been faced with the awful role of being an enemy to all.  You did things that those loyal to Voldemort will not forgive, and you did things that those loyal to Dumbledore will not forgive.  I know you did the best you could.  You were forced into a role that no one wanted.  You were forced to make choices that were difficult.  But the war is over.  You are still by all accounts a young man.  You are in no way nearing the end of your life.  Do not let the past destroy your future.”  She places her hand on my shoulder. 

The casual touch terrifies me.  At my discomfort, she deliberately keeps her hand in place.

“Minerva, please remove your hand.”

“Severus.”  She says very gently.  “The only way to face a fear is to meet it head on.”

“That is easy for a Gryffindor to say.”  She smiles at me in a way that says she understands.

“The war is over.”  After she says this, her arms wrap around me and I stand completely stationary at the unfamiliar touch.  If I were a weaker man, I might would allow myself to cry in her arms.  If I were a weaker man I might would confess all of my sins to her at this moment.  If I were a weaker man, I might would allow this person- who has always stretched out their hand to me- to befriend me as she has attempted so many times.  Instead I firmly but carefully push her a full arms-length away.   Harming her is not my intention, but this is too much.  She smiles in a pleasant way.  Gently.  Understanding.  “Harry certainly has his work cut out for him.”  She shakes her head in mock disbelief.

But she is a cat.

Instead of being perturbed at my action, she retakes her seat and lounges comfortably.  Sipping the cheap tea that I offered her.  I could poison her.  I could deceive her.  But with no reluctance, she enjoys her cup unafraid of what I may have done to it.  She is the only one I ever offer tea.  There have been others that have come to my rooms.  The look of restrained apprehension always reminds me that they could never trust me.  Trust tea offered by a traitor of the light.  No.  They would be foolish.

She however drinks every drop and extends her hand silently asking for a second cup.

Would Potter also confidently and without fear drink the tea that I have made with blood stained hands.

I shake that thought away.

I feel almost certain that he would.

I never go to Minerva’s rooms.  Never since I was first hired have I gone.  If we needed to meet for something, she would either come to my room, or we would meet elsewhere.  Never her room.  More often than not, she would come here because of her unique ability to be comfortable.  Or because she knows that I could never feel at ease in an unfamiliar environment.

One sugar.  Then a second.

It could almost be achingly familiar.

“The war is over.”  This time it’s me who says it.  She smiles.

“The war is as over as you allow it to be.  If it is still ongoing in here,”  She touches her temple, “then you will be unable to move on.  I do not blame you for what you had to do.  I hate that you were put in such a position.” 

She closes her eyes.  I’m not sure if it’s due to exhaustion.  Or thinking.  Or maybe just because she’s enjoying the tea.

“I wasn’t sure if Mr. Potter would be ready to take on a role of teaching.  He is not much older than the other students.  And actually, for some he is the same age, but I felt as the headmistresses that he would be a fine DADA teacher.  He certainly has the firsthand experience.”

“Minerva, what exactly is your intention of visiting me today?”  She smiles and her eye twinkles in a way that reminds me of the headmaster.  A person that I actually cared for that I killed.

“I only wanted to say that it is not forbidden for teachers to date.” 

I shake that thought from my head.

“Minerva, I have no intentions now or ever of cavorting with another- romantically or otherwise.”

“That really is a shame considering Mr. Potter seems to want just that.”

“He is young and does not know what he wants.”  I say simply while hiding my face behind my teacup.

“I feel certain that he does in fact know what he wants.  He has already spoken with me about the rules of teachers being romantically involved.”  She laughs carefreely.  “He asked many questions that are in my opinion a bit too soon to ask, but I digress.”

“Questions like what exactly?”  I find myself asking.  I do not want to know.  But I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

“If two teachers can live in the same rooms or get married and still remain living in the school.  Other questions of that caliber.  He seemed quite sincere.  And you know how us Gryffindor’s are.  Once we decide on something we want, we seldom change our mind.  I feel like even if you reject him a thousand times, he will continue to pursuing you.  Friend.  Romantic or not.”  She smiles at me.  “Severus.  The war is over.  If have no interest in the boy, then that is perfectly fine.  You are allowed to care or not care for whomever, but if you do have an interest,”

“Minerva, I do not!”  She holds up her hand to stop my outburst and although she has not been my teacher in over twenty years, I still close my mouth.

“If you do have an interest, I will support any relationship you build with Harry or anyone.  You are still very young and have a life time to accept people into your life.  You only have to let them in.”  She smiles at me.  She stands and I remain quiet because I have nothing to say.  “As always, thank you for the tea.  I am not Albus, I will not meddle any more than I already have.  I only wished to tell you that I accept any choice you make.”  She lightly touches my arm this time and though it’s still uncomfortable, I don’t shrug it off.

She leaves and I’m again left alone with my thoughts and that tiny vial. 

This is likely even my own potion.  I do brew so many and send them up to the medical wing.  There is a very likely chance that it is mine.  The color even alludes to it being the proper potion type.  I’m being paranoid.  But paranoia has kept me alive.  Not trusting even the smallest act has kept me alive. 

Not just during the war either. 

Not trusting my mother to tuck me in because she had that nasty habit of squeezing her hands around my throat.  Not trusting anyone.

Not even Minerva.

She bought me tea for my birthday or Christmas.  Some sort of present for some insipid occasion.  The seal wasn’t even broken.  It was nice tea.  Far nicer than anything I ever served her.  She said it was for always drinking my tea.  I thanked her politely enough because that is how one is suppose to act. 

I couldn’t bring myself to drink it though.  I waited until the next time she came for a visit.  I made it obvious that I was opening up her tea.  I brewed in front of her and again poured her the first cup as I always do.  I waited until she took the first sip before I was able to trust the good-natured gift.   

She isn’t an idiot.  I’m sure she knew what I was doing.  But she never called me out on it, and she never gave me tea- or any other consumable- again. 

Paranoia has kept me alive.

Like the time that my mother made me breakfast.  Mother never cooked.  It was so strange.  I still remember.  The pancakes smelled so enticing.  Real butter.  Honey- not syrup.  I love honey.  She asked me to come to breakfast.  She set the table for me.  I was never allowed to sit at the table.  It had been so long since I had an actual meal.  It smelled so good.  I was salivating. 

I wanted to believe that it could be real.  My mother and father were willing to be loving parents.  Some miracle happened and now everything would be okay.  She smiled at me and waited expectantly for me to take the first bite. 

I wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay. 

I wanted to believe that my mother loved me.

Sure, she had some problems but at her core, she did love me. 

I wanted to believe that.

But there was something off about it. 

The way her fingers twitched agitatedly.  The way her smile didn’t reach her eyes.  The empty box of rat poison sitting at the top of the trash pile. 

I can’t be positive that she truly intended to poison me.  I think I want to believe that I was wrong.  But when I showed uncertainty at the offered food, she became violently angry.  Striking me.  Yelling obscene insults that still sting when I remember them.  The plate knocked off the table and shattered.

I could have been wrong. 

She could have truly been using that as a peace offering.

But somehow, I really doubt it.

This potion is no different.  There is a chance that I am being overly cautious and that he truly means to extent his hand to me.  There is a chance that I am being needlessly distrustful, but that has kept me alive living this life that I don’t even really want.  I would hate to have proof that I cannot trust him.  His eyes are too pure.  His eyes are too much like his mother’s.  I really wish that I could trust him, but trusting allows one to be vulnerable.  Maybe for him I could let myself be vulnerable?

I shake that thought away.


End file.
